Amorak Huey


Nocturne with Poor Decisions

That time, say, you shoved me against the wall
and we pretended we liked things rough.

We don’t have to live in separate states
to call it a long-distance relationship. We don’t

write, don’t call, we get lost in the hazy outlines
of our own front porch at dusk. I drink tequila

from your lips, swim buzzingly
through the tangle and mystery of your hair,

I can’t tell which wounds are happening,
have happened, could happen.

We have differing tastes in music
though I’ll listen to anything

if it gets you to open your mouth.
Let’s say I stand, stumble. Let’s say

fall. Say follow and fire. Say we end up
in the crawlspace, brushing away spiderwebs,

our knees on stones and broken glass.
You strike the match. I touch flame to fuse.

Amorak Huey is author of the chapbook The Insomniac Circus (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2014) and the forthcoming poetry collection Ha Ha Ha Thump (Sundress Publications, 2015). A former newspaper editor and reporter, he teaches writing at Grand Valley State University. His poems appear in The Best American Poetry 2012, The Cincinnati Review, The Southern Review, The Collagist, Menacing Hedge, and many other print and online journals. Follow him on Twitter: @amorak or visit his website: He lives in Michigan because of the state’s easy access to his favorite sweets: apple crisp and blueberry pie.

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